"Why aren't we there yet?" Amara glanced at her watch, frustration creeping into her voice as she sat in the backseat of a low-key sedan. A small frown seemed permanently etched between her brows.

"Princess, we should've stuck to the normal route. The shortcut turned out to be unreliable," James, her bodyguard, replied softly from the driver's seat.

Amara sighed. "I get it now, James." It was her fault after all. He had been right when he suggested they stick to the usual route. She had insisted on the shortcut, hoping it would speed things up. It didn't. Now they were stuck in traffic, with no end in sight. But in the end, she couldn't whip herself up over it. As perfect as she was, her mind was bugged with worries so it was only natural for her to make a mistake.

James pressed on the brakes and got out of the car. He stood by the open door, examining the gridlock outside.

After a few minutes, he returned and turned toward her. "The road's clearing up, but it'll take a few more minutes."

Amara nodded, scrolling through her phone, hoping for a new message from her friend Leah. But seeing only the last cryptic text added to her anxiety:

[Leah: It's all oher this tide.]

Translation: "It's all over this time."

Amara deduced that Leah must be facing either of two things: blurry vision from tears or a state of drunkenness. But considering that it could be a combination of both gave Amara a headache. She refreshed the chat, hoping it was a network issue, but no new messages appeared. When she dialed, the call went straight to voicemail.

"James… how much longer?" she asked, still trying to contact Leah. When there was no response, she glanced up from her phone. The traffic had eased, but their car remained parked.

Her eyes narrowed as she turned to James, who was engrossed in typing on his phone, his expression distant

This had been bothering Amara for days. This bodyguard of hers who has stayed by her side through thick and thin, who had seen her grow up in front of his eyes and protected her all along was certainly going through something. Something was clearly weighing on him.

She tapped her phone, waiting until he was done typing. "James… James?"

"Yes, Princess!" He snapped to attention, scanning their surroundings before he spoke again. "The road's clear. Let's go."

Before Amara could respond, her phone buzzed, pulling her thoughts elsewhere.

…

In front of a mansion in the suburbs. 

"Princess, shall I break the door?" James asked, looking at Amara seriously.

"You must be out of your mind," Amara replied, eyebrows raised.

"I'm not, Princess. I've been trained for this. I'll keep the noise down," James responded, already assessing the mansion's entrance as though weighing the pros and cons of breaking it down.

Amara was speechless. She tried calling Leah again, but the call didn't go through, sending her thoughts into a spiral.

James remained silent, waiting patiently for her approval, his face resolute. Amara had no doubt he would bring the door crashing down if she gave the word.

"Her brother would send the damage recovery bill to the royal family," Amara muttered, shaking her head. Leah's older brother had gone overseas for his new project a week ago. If he were here, they wouldn't be discussing breaking down his door. "Regardless, it's improper to break someone's door."

James didn't argue, but his expression clearly conveyed: The situation calls for it.

Suddenly, Amara's eyes lit up. "The windows!"

James took the hint and quickly checked the windows one by one until he reached the last one, which moved under his hand. He slid it open effortlessly.

Amara hurried over but hesitated at the windowsill's height. "Help me up."

"Pardon me, Princess." James gathered the fabric of her skirt around the back of her knees and lifted her, positioning her on the windowsill.

"I'll wait for you here," Amara said, jumping into the living room and nodding at him.

"I should wait inside, in case there's danger," James insisted, moving toward the window.

"Don't overthink it. I'm just meeting Leah. What danger could there possibly be?" After a few moments, she convinced him to stay in the living room instead.

Amara made her way upstairs to the room at the end of the hallway, her eyes trailing the line of paintings on the wall. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but the moment she touched it, the door creaked open—it had been unlocked.

The room was dark, save for the faint light filtering through the windows. A sweet aroma of red wine lingered in the air. Amara recognized the vintage bottle immediately—1982—the same bottle she had gifted Leah a long time ago and the woman had saved it saying she could not bring herself to drink this antique. 

Scanning the room, Amara didn't see anyone.

'Hiccup.'

Just as she turned to leave, the soft sound made her freeze. Amara circled the bed and found Leah lying on the floor, dressed only in an oversized, crumpled shirt.

...

The bass pounded through the walls, each beat pulsing up through the floor and into Amara's chest. The nightclub was a whirlwind of flashing lights, the air thick with smoke and sweat. Bodies moved like waves on the dance floor, a blur of movement and neon color, lost in the music.

Amara stood near the bar, a half-empty cocktail in hand, watching Leah next to her, desperately trying to drown her sorrows in tequila shots. Honestly, if someone had asked her, she'd say this was the last place she wanted to be. But who could've predicted that when she found Leah sprawled out like a starfish on the floor, trying to move her to the bed would result in the woman waking up, mid-sobfest?

In the end, Amara had decided to get her out of that mansion, hoping some fresh air might do her good. But when she asked Leah where she wanted to go, her only response had been, "I want to drink more. The nightclub."

The moment Amara signaled James to drive here, she knew maybe it was not the best idea—but that's friendship for you. Makes you do things that go against every ounce of common sense. Amara believed that it would be better for Leah to go all out and let things go rather than repressing them. 

Leah had just ended things with her childhood sweetheart, the guy she'd been dating for years. Leah's 'It's all over this time' text also referred to that. Why this time, one might ask?

"Hiccup... H-He said I shouldn't look for him again. This time, it's really serious, isn't it? He's leaving me, isn't he?" Leah looked up, tears streaming down her face, her hiccups interrupting her sobs.

Amara's heart ached at the sight. Leah and her boyfriend had a notoriously on-again, off-again relationship. It was like a broken record that wouldn't stop skipping.

"What am I supposed to do if it's really over this time?" Leah mumbled, staring bitterly at her empty glass. "I... I don't know…"

"If it's over, it's over. Honestly, you're not losing anything if you lose a man—or two," Amara paused, squeezing Leah's hand. "Or even more."

"You don't get it. He… Ron is different. He…"

Amara sighed internally as her brows furrowed. Different, right. The same guy who'd ghost her every other month and reappear just when she was getting over him. She'd known Leah for two years now, and this cycle hadn't broken once. Maybe Leah couldn't see it, maybe she didn't want to. Or maybe—just maybe—she was so hopelessly in love that she forgave him, time and time again.

Amara couldn't relate. She'd never found herself in a position where she'd throw away her principles for a guy. And she was sure she never would. She believed in keeping one foot out the door at all times. The moment things went south, you turn and bolt. Simple.

Amara's life was just as simple as that. Her elder brother was the future king and as for her, she would be an idle princess all her life. Live a carefree life, and stay away from things that were mentally draining. 

"Am I not good enough? Tell me," Leah clung to Amara's arm, shaking her, "Am I… Forget it. I'll just ask someone... else...?"

"Leah, wait—" Amara's heart jumped when Leah suddenly bolted off her barstool and headed toward a group of men sitting at the far end of the bar.

As Leah got closer, Amara's eyes widened. Leah had cornered some random guy, pressing her knee between his legs, slurring, "Am I not pretty? Am I not beautiful? Why would he do this to me? Smile at another girl and then get mad when I call him out…"

"Am I… not… beautiful?"

The man's lips moved, but his voice was drowned out by the pounding music. Amara couldn't catch a word. Just as she reached them, the group surrounding the man—clearly his bodyguards—stood up and formed a wall between Leah and the guy.

"Excuse me…" Amara tried to push through before they could grab Leah, but one of them turned abruptly, shoving her back. She grabbed the bar counter to steady herself, but her heel twisted sharply, sending her elbow scraping along the edge.

Bam!

The man who had shoved her was suddenly flung backward, slamming into the bar. Amara blinked, bewildered, as James appeared at her side, as calm as ever.

"Are you okay?" he asked, steadying her.

Amara nodded, glancing toward the stranger, who was now barely visible behind the wall of bodyguards. Leah was still standing in front of him, stumbling and mumbling incoherently.

"Excuse me, sorry for the misunderstanding. My friend's drunk, and she's lost all sense of, well... everything."